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Sooner
Thumping on the door. "I got it!" calls Jimmy, strolling down the hall. He opens the door— Logan tumbles— Jimmy catches him—"Jesus, kid!"—lowers them both to the ground. "You're okay." Smooths his hair back (no fever). "You're okay. What's wrong?" Incoherent mumbling. "Okay. I'ma get you up, now, okay?" Gets one of Logan's arms up around his neck, gets his own arm under Logan's knees, pushes up to standing. "I'm driving a kid to Emergency!" ""I'll keep dinner warm!"" "Thanks, dear! I love you!" . "Doctor Hoffman!" Jimmy greets as charmingly as he can. "Mr Fitzroy," replies the doctor. "I hear you've brought in another minor." Turns her eye on Logan. "Of course you've met Trouble. My day would be nowhere near as straightforward if you hadn't." Jimmy grins. "I see you know my son. Bit of a scamp, ah?" "That child is not your son." "Potentially he's my daughter, it's true. You see the resemblance?" "Unless he isn't related to you, Mr Fitzroy, he isn't your child." "Which he is exactly! My stepson, I mean." Doctor Hoffman says, "I'll send Nurse Minh around with a fingerprinting kit." Jimmy sighs. . Logan jerks awake, throws himself upright, up short by a pull on his wrist. "Easy, kid," says Jimmy quietly. He looks down. A handcuff. What the ...? "The social services folks are coming to take you home." Grimaces. "They wanted to make sure you wait for them." Logan's mouth tastes like a dirty wool sock. "Which home?" he croaks. "Port Macquarie." Shit. "Why?" Jimmy scratches his nose. "They didn't believe I was your dad." Logan blinks. "Worth a shot." Logan huffs. "They ran your prints against the missing child database and found your name." Logan glances at his uncuffed hand. Black ink. Shiiiiiiiit. "'parently your family reported you as a runaway. And you're still a minor. So." Logan sighs, flops back into the pillows. Ponders a moment. "What happened to me yesterday?" "You don't remember?" "Remember eating dinner, then nothing." "Someone fed you enough roofies to knock out two /'normal' skinny teenagers in /'minutes' and you, somehow, made it to my front door before you went down. Drugged up, but no new marks on ye." Fuck. "You've been out nearly twelve hours." Swallows. "Did you—" Jimmy shrugs. "bit of it. Sucks waking up alone in a weird place." Logan grunts. this place pretty well." "It's none of my business—" "Right," snaps Logan. "—but is there a reason you shouldn't be shipped back?" "It's a waste of time." "You'll be back next week, ay?" "Or sooner." . back to the land of the conscious, boy—" Logan scowls. Jimmy pokes his arm. "—formerly-known-as-Trouble. It's good to formally meet you," grins Nurse Minh. "These—" Flicks their head toward two burly types in the boring jackets and ties favoured by the civil service. "—lovely folks are here to give you a lift home." Logan sighs. Nurse Minh turns to the social services goons. "You've signed the release paperwork with Doctor Hoffman, ay?" Left Goon nods. "He's all yours, then, after I pull his IV." Leans over, plucks the needle, slowly smooths down a bandage, whispering, "The washroom window doesn't lock," in Logan's ear. Straightens. "Thanks," grumbles Logan. Minh grins, takes their leave. Right Goon unlocks the handcuffs, pointedly tucks them in a pocket. Left and Right take hold of Logan's elbows, slide him to his feet. "See you later, kid." Jimmy flicks salute and smiles. Logan grunts, waves— Right and Left keep their grips on his elbows. —huffs, "I see my reputation precedes me." Left snickers. Logan rolls his eyes, lets them tug him through the door. "Mind if I visit the gents?" asks Logan sweetly. Left and Right steer him to the washroom door, take up flanking positions. Logan steps in, locks up, steps smart straight to the window, pulls it— The pane is unmoved. Painted shut. Logan sighs, yanks harder, and the thing gives. Gets a grip on the sill, hoists himself up, top half out— Doorknob rattles. —gazes heavenward, drops, leans back against the wall, crosses his arms nonchalantly. Door opens. "You doing alright?" asks Right, peering in. "Just catching a breath of air." "You can get all the air you want on the drive. C'mon, Jones." Beckons. Logan sighs again, pushes off. . They pull in at Heatherbrae. "Need the washroom?" calls Right. "Nah." Left and Right head off to get food. Logan waits until they're out of sight, then finagles the door, gets out of the car, casually strolls away, and urks against his tee. "Really?" asks Right. "Was getting a pie for my Nanny," grumbles Logan. "Well in that case," Right links their arm with Logan's and drags him into the pie shop. "What kind of pie does your Nanny like?" "Apple," Logan grunts. "Apple it is," chirps Right and gets some pastries while they're at it. . "Jones." Logan snorts fully awake, blinks at the roof of the car. "You're home." "Whee," murmurs Logan. He sits up, stretches as best he can in the cramped space. Right and Left flank the door, open it, beckon Logan. He slides out, to his feet, stretches again. They take hold of his elbows— Logan sighs. —march him to the front door, knock. After a moment, Dad swings it open. Logan slaps on a smile. Someone might as well have punched Dad in the face. "Mr Michael Jones?" says Left. "I am." He glares at Logan. "I see you found my son." "In a Sydney hospital, sir." "Really." Eyes still on Logan. "He'd been drugged and collapsed. Before that, he'd been in and out of Emergency a half-dozen times." Left shifts nervously. "We apologize for not returning him sooner, but he somehow managed to conceal his identity from hospital staff." ""Who is it, Dad?"" hollers Jack. "Your brother." Still blocking the door. Two squeaks. Both Left and Right shift nervously. Left clears their throat. "Well, we'll release him to your custody, then." Nudges Logan forward. Dad sighs mightily, steps aside. Left and Right release his arms and Logan strolls inside. Dad grumbles something at Right and Left, shuts the door hard. Logan saunters past the family room—Jack watching him instead of his textbook (tsk, tsk, Jack, how're you supposed to the dean's list like that?), [Derek] cowering behind him, Mum frowning in his general direction—up the stairs to his— Stops at the door. Full of Dad's stuff. Yelling from downstairs. Not his room anymore. Shouting gets louder. Took less than sixty-six days. Logan shrugs, shuffles through the next door along the hall—Jack's room—flops on the bed, and falls asleep. . The mattress grumbles. Logan takes a deep breath of Jack's pillow. "Hey," greets Jack. Logan pulls his head around. "Hey." Pushes up on his elbows. "Want your bed back, ay?" "Wanna talk, actually." All the way up to sitting, inclines his head 'go on'. Jack takes a deep breath. "Where've you been?" "Around. Sydney, mostly." "Doing what?" "Stuff." Jack sighs. Logan crosses his legs. "How long'd Dad wait?" "For what?" "To take over my room." Jack cringes, mumbles, "Two weeks." "That long?" "Honestly, he was measuring for the desk the third day. Nanny made him wait." Logan recrosses his legs. "She's the one who asked the cops to find me." "Yea. She's been worried sick." Snorts. "They wanted Mum or Dad to make the report, but she in/'sisted'." "I'll stop by her place on my way south." Jack sits up straighter. "You're going back?" Logan rolls his eyes. "Jack, I'm spending another day here." Grins. "After tonight, of course." Jack ducks his head. "You're really gonna leave?" "I'll be gone before any of ye wake up." "Logan ...." Swallows. "Please don't go. Move in with Nanny like she offered." "Already told you I can't do that." Rubs his neck. "'m not gonna make her life hell." "You're beat up! You're gonna get yourself /'killed' if you stay on the streets!" yelps Jack. Logan shrugs. "Won't be much of a loss." Jack's on his feet. "How can you /'say' that?!" Crosses his arms. "My dad turned my room into an office two weeks after I left." Jack throws himself back on the bed. "Dad's an asshole and you know it." "He's /'definitely' an asshole, but my brain's not right, either. 's better for everyone if I vanish." "How can you say that?" "How many times has Derek chucked since I walked in the door?" Jack points out—deflates. Logan yawns, scrubs a hand over his face. "Can you at least send postcards? Let us know you're okay?" "'s not really my style." Pushes to his feet. "Please?" "I'll figure something else out." Strolls to the— "No, no." Jack stands. "You sleep here. Least I can do." "Don't think the couch'll fit you, Jack." "I'm bunking with Derek. Poor kid's been having nightmares; I come home and I've got a limpet." "Well, go be limpeted on. I need my beauty sleep." Jack snorts. "'night, Logan." "'night, Jack." Jack closes the door behind him. Logan tucks himself under the covers, sighs contently. . Logan's internal alarm sounds off at four. He stretches, yawns, eases to his feet, takes bleary stock of Jack's room. Let's see .... Arms loaded with jumpers and fancy sweat-wicking socks, he pads into Dad's brand new office. Safe's under a stack of books beside the desk. Combination's still the default. Silly Dad. Logan helps himself to cash, a debit card (always one of the same two PINs, silly Dad), and the spare credit card with the available cash advance. Tucks them in a pocket, grins, resets the combination, and locks up. Slides down the banister, lets momentum speed him to the den. Into Mum's purse. Out with her cash, debit card (always one of the same two PINs, silly Mum), and the two credit cards with cash advances. Into the foyer, the closet, liberates Jack's backup windcheater. Backpack ... backpack .... Ugh. Only Derek's old one. Covered with some sort of anime ... things. Nope. Hits the utility room, snags a laundry bag, stuffs his haul inside. To the pantry! Jack's fancy energy bars and powdered electrolyte drinks, the granola bars, and Dad's secret stash of chocolate (fancy, fancy European stuff) go into the bag. Retrieves the pie for Nanny from the fridge. Out through the garage's back door, nicking the spare lock picks from the rafters (reachable from the top of Dad's car) on the way. Over two fences into the Clibborns' yard, through the side door into the garage where they stash the camping gear. Big waterproof duffel (laundry bag goes in), a backpack he loads with Mylar blankets and assorted survival bric-à-brac. Locks up on the way out. And off to Nanny's on the path past the most ATMs without cameras. . Eyes closed, Logan basks in the sunrise on Nanny's front step. "Hello, love," she greets. Logan opens his eyes, tilts his head back until he can see her face, smiles faintly. "Hi, Nanny." Nudges the bag, "Pie?" "Why thank you, love. I really appreciate this." Opens the bag. "Apple. How thoughtful of you." "Do you actually like apple pie?" "Everyone likes apple pie, except, I believe, your mother, but she has issues." Logan snorts. Nanny nods toward his duffel. "You're on your way, then?" "Yea." "You're welcome to stay with me instead." "I know." "But you won't." "No." Nanny settles beside him, places a sack of groceries at his feet. "You've lost weight." He raises an eyebrow. "Jack texted last night to let me know you'd be dropping in and mentioned it." Logan huffs, tucks the granola and protein bars, apples, and chocolate in the duffel. "Thanks, Nanny." "You're welcome, dear." A companionable pause. "You've been safe?" Logan scratches the back of his head. "Sorta?" Deep breath. "I've visited Emergency more than I'd like." Swallows. "The night before they drove me back here, I fucked up and got drugged. Nothing happened, bu—" Breaks off with a shudder and a shaky breath. Nanny shifts. "May I hug you?" Minuscule nod. A gentle arm around his shoulder tugs him close. He lets his head rest on her shoulder. "Have you made friends—" "People like me don't have—" Nanny clears her throat. "Sorry." "Have you made friends who can help you?" "One, I think. Lets me crash on his couch." A beat. "I trust him." "You've always been an excellent judge of character, love. If you trust him, he's trustworthy." Logan grunts. "It's supposed to rain the whole next week in Sydney." "'m not Jack. I won't catch my death if I get damp." Nanny bumps his shoulder. "Do you have a waterproof coat?" Logan rolls his eyes. "Yes, Nanny." "Jumpers?" "Yes, Nanny." "Socks?" "Yes, Nanny." "Your shoes are in good shape?" "Yes, Nanny." "And you have a good backpack?" "It's not falling apart?" "Does it seem like it will?" Logan peers over his shoulder. "Zippers seem fine." "Good." Deep breath. "Are you gonna ask the police to bring me back this time?" "No, dear." Nanny sighs. "You'll come back on your own if you want to." Logan exhales, leans more heavily against her side, murmurs, "Thanks for that." "Jack will be back in the city in a couple of weeks if you need another friend." A squeeze. "You're always welcome at my place and can call any time." "I know," Logan croaks. "Logan ... you don't need to leave." "Yea, I do. Need to get away from fa—" Swallows. "—here." Nanny nudges him again. "We're your family, wherever you go." "Whether you want me or not." Nanny squishes Logan to her chest— He sags. —kisses his forehead. "We love you and of course we want you." "Dad—" "Your father can be a complete asshole, dear." Logan's chuckle trails off into a sigh. "I wish I could stay with you. But." Deep breath. "My brain's—" Vague gesture near his head. "—/'better' [on my own. Less noisy. Trying to be normal, 's like I'm all staticky. I can think /'straight' living my way." Deep breath. "First time ever, feels like."] "You've thought a lot about this." Logan shrugs. "At least let me drive you to the bus." "Fiiine." . Jimmy strolls home from the train station, idly swinging a sack of groceries. A pair of trainers dangles from the gum tree in his front yard. Jimmy grins at the leaves above the shoes. "Is it 'sooner' already?" Logan snorts, drops to the ground, lands in a crouch. "Welcome back, kid." He straightens, dusts the seat of his trousers. "Good to be back." "Have a nice visit?" Logan shrugs. "Average." Jimmy scratches his nose. "Beth's making—" Peers into the grocery sack. "—some sorta vegetable ... thing and she always makes too much. So. If you want." Logan ducks his head. "I've got plans. Just wanted to let ye know I was back in town." "You staying local?" "For a few days. Thinking of working my way east." Jimmy grunts. "So, guess I'll be on my way." "You're always welcome on the couch. Just let yourself in." Logan rubs the back of his neck. "Thanks, Jimmy." "No problem, kid." Category:Ficlet Category:Prequel Category:Pre-Turtles Category:Logan Category:Logan (ficlet) Category:Jimmy Category:Jimmy (ficlet) Category:Beth Category:Beth (ficlet) Category:Matalina Category:Matalina (ficlet) Category:Hoffman Category:Hoffman (ficlet) Category:Ha Category:Ha (ficlet) Category:Michael Category:Michael (ficlet) Category:Jackson Category:Jackson (ficlet) Category:Derek Category:Derek (ficlet) Category:Kathleen Category:Kathleen (ficlet) Category:Nanny Category:Nanny (ficlet) Category:Logan has an antisocial personality disorder